


Learning at Sea

by bloodsongs



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gratuitous smut™, M/M, Pirate sexytimes, Pirates, Still regretting nothing, That's right, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/pseuds/bloodsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t need to give my name to the likes of you, seafarer,” the man grits out, and Loki is somehow suddenly reminded of a wolf, wild and untamable, all fangs and fury.</p><p>He likes this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He finishes fastening the dark green bandana about his head just as his first mate calls to him, yelling about their new captives they’d brought onto the ship.

“What is it?” Loki sighs, dark hair flying about in the wind, his formidable coat of captains’ black billowing in sync. He steps down onto the deck and squints at the dying sun before turning back to Clint. “I take it the raid went well, Hawkeye?”

“Aye, sir,” Clint “Hawkeye” Barton grunts, snapping his bow back into place behind his back. “We got quite a haul, we did, and supplies too. Loot’s been shoved out the back.”

“Excellent. More captives for our burgeoning crew behind you, then?” Loki smirks, eyes glinting dangerously like his sword.

Clint’s eyes light up, and his answering grin is wide and menacing. “Yes. Particularly worthy of note was,” he pulls none too gently on a swath of rope encircling his fingers and yanks a man forward, “this ‘ere rogue. Bruised some of us bloody and everything, he did, but he’s a damned good fighter we could use in our ranks if we can break ‘im. Thought I’d bring him to you and see what magic you could work on him, cap’n.”

The bound man shoves at Clint, spits at his feet. Clint grits his teeth and socks him a powerful one in the jaw, but the captive barely flinches. His eyes, an unyielding blue, are cold and unmoved as he stares Clint down even as blood runs down his chin, matted and filthy blond hair a mess against the sweat of his neck.

Loki is impressed despite himself, and pats Clint on the back, laughing heartily. “Good man. You know how I like them.” He leans in a little closer to Clint and murmurs, in his ear: “Meet me in my cabin tonight, then. I’ll see that you are rewarded… accordingly.” Pulling away, he just smiles mysteriously, winking at a now scarlet Clint and the other men gaping at him. “Leave the taming of this colt to me,” Loki drawls, eyes narrowing. The captive raises challenging eyebrows in response, defiant, like an invitation.

Oh, but Loki  _does_  so love a challenge.

He pulls the man forward unceremoniously so that he’s forced to follow Loki reluctantly to his chambers. The swath of rope around his neck is a surprisingly good look on him, and Loki feels the first stirrings of interest as he looks at the captive behind him unabashedly, taking everything in. 

“What is your name then?” Loki asks quietly as they walk, looking forward again, secretly delighting in the way the captive bares his teeth in a snarl.

“I don’t need to give my name to the likes of you, seafarer,” the man grits out, and Loki is somehow suddenly reminded of a wolf, wild and untamable, all fangs and fury.

He  _likes_  this one.

Chuckling, he snaps his fingers, and the doors to his chambers open. “How discourteous of you.” He’s pleased to see the man’s eyes widen when that happens; his magic never fails to instigate similar reactions from people seeing what he can do for the first time.

“Demon,” the man seethes. “You ravage our village, pillage everything, hurt our people, and you are a warlock, to boot? You should burn.”

“Pirates will be pirates,” Loki says lazily, and twists the rope tighter around his wrists as he pulls his captive inside. “It’s our nature. As for the magic, I’ve always had it. It helps me fight, defend myself, and carves out a path of success for me. Why should I begrudge my talents such?”

He sits down in his captain’s chair, overlooking the ocean. The man just continues looking at him disdainfully, eyes like steel and colder even than that. 

“Has anyone told you that you make a terrible guest?” Loki makes a sweeping motion with his hand, and then a chair floats over to him from his table, whispers of magic trailing around it. He can tell the man is unnerved, but trying viciously not to show it. “Well, why don’t you take a seat, then? Impolite you may be when I’m offering you, ah, hospitality, but I’ll never have it said that I’m a bad host.”

Mouth set in an obstinate line, the man continues to stand. “Standing is just fine by me.”

Loki’s own mouth thins, his patience trickling away by the minute. “I said sit!” He thunders, voice ringing like the crack of a whip, and the man is startled for a moment. That moment of uncertainty allows him to curl his fingers into a fist and slam the man down onto the chair. Because he’s already feeling the first edges of anger lacing his thoughts, he waves his hand again and has more ropes bind the man tightly against the chair, his legs spread open. The man gasps from the pressure, wincing, and Loki feels dark satisfaction at that.

He looks a little cowed now, at least. Good. Something uncoils from within Loki, like a snake. He wants to hurt this impudent man, he realises. Wants to break him, like a toy. Strip away all that arrogance and pride and dignity, see what’s left after he’s done tearing him apart.

“One doesn’t run a ship without commanding fear from his followers,” Loki murmurs, his voice low in the silence but for the echo of waves outside. “I am not a man of patience. I’ll have you know that if you cross me, you will pay, and pay dearly.” He tilts his head at the man, a beautiful and bruised thing in ropes staring up at him with loathing and wonderment both. “Now tell me  _your name_.”

The clock he has on his mantelpiece near the fire seems to tick on for what feels like hours, the tension mounting impossibly until the man says, finally, “Thor.”

“Ah.” Loki turns around, the darkening sky visible from his wide glass windows framing him like a cloak. Flames dance in the lamp hanging from above them, casting half-shadows on their faces. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” He lowers his voice to  a whisper, a menacing and cutting edge that many of Loki’s enemies had come to know intimately in the last, snatched seconds of their lives before he moved in for the kill, slashing a knife across their throat, boiling their blood alive in their veins. 

Loki is ruthless, and he prides himself on it, relishing it. He smiles as Thor struggles futilely with his ropes for a moment, eventually sagging against the back of the chair and throwing his head back to look up at the coarse wooden ceiling, exposing the long and sharp line of his neck. It’s something to behold.

“I am Loki,” he says, crooking his fingers so that the ropes tighten ever so slightly, slipping to curl tighter around Thor’s neck. “Captain Loki Laufeyson. This is my ship,  _Thundersbane._ I tame the raging seas and all who would defy me wherever I go; magic is as much a sword to me as my own blade, and with it I fell cities and other lords of the sea to emerge victorious. Soon, all will bow to me, yield to me, come to know me as the most powerful and ruthless pirate to sail the seas.”

Thor sneers even as he winces. “Hollow words from a hollow man. All that, and for what? Gold, glory? Pride?”

Loki’s eyes narrow, and Thor squeezes his eyes shut as the necklace of rope turn winter-cold, biting into his skin. When Loki loosens them again, a ring of red is faint against his neck. It’s as though Thor was kissed by fire, there. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says coolly, standing and walking over to Thor, who’s glaring at him again and breathing hard from the brief flash of pain. “What would you know of pirates, of our honour?”

“Pirates have no honour,” Thor shoots back. “You’re the one who doesn’t even know what you want, aren’t you? You pirates are all the same, pointless fools with swords and ships playing at kings at sea, thinking there’s more to your life of savagery than your senseless violence.”

Loki grips the braided rope tightly, pulls it back so that Thor’s straining towards him even with the other ropes coiled around him in place. He yanks it once, twice, and lets his magic flow down the ropes to hold Thor in place, trailing his fingers down to Thor’s reddened neck before sinking them in like fangs.

Thor cries out, and Loki smiles viciously, his heart thundering under the illusion that is his composure. Something about Thor, this rough diamond, irks him, stirs him. He cannot fathom why, and that angers him. “Know your place, thrall.”

Delighting in the pain he’s causing, Loki runs the pad of his thumb up and down Thor’s neck, the dips and curves he finds there. Thrall or not, Thor is a magnificent creature, all lean muscles and golden looks. Loki wonders if it was war that hardened Thor so, that made him such a fighter, almost a warrior.

If he looked into Thor’s soul, what would he find staring back at him? 

The intrigue is almost too much to bear, and Loki tucks it away. 

Thor looks at him, tense and hostile. “I’m a better man than you’ll ever be,” He says, eyes half-lidded. This close, Loki sees they’re a dark and fascinating blue; piercing, like his words. “You’re nothing, Loki Laufeyson. You’re nothing but a petty criminal,  with blind followers who follow you like sheep, abusing your devil’s power and your swords for a crown that doesn’t even exist.”

Loki doesn’t say anything, but he shifts his hand back up to Thor’s neck again, slinging his left arm about the chair to steady himself and to climb onto Thor’s lap. “Petty, am I?” He murmurs dangerously. “I’ve ended the reigns of rulers and pirate lords with this power—” Flames blink to life in the curve of his palm as he holds the blazing heat close to Thor, watches every expression that flits across his captive’s face as Thor keeps from flinching beneath him, stubborn but unsure. “I have brought cities burning to the ground with my crew, known treasures beyond price and dreams. And yet you call me petty?”

Thor bares his teeth at him, much like the wolf Loki was likening him to in his mind. “But you are. Just look at you.” He dangles the seemingly innocuous words like insults, like a challenge, every syllable a blow against the armour of Loki’s pride. “Captain of a ship, he says,” Thor taunts, rising his chin up to look at Loki, so close that Loki can almost taste him, defiant mouth scant inches from his own. “Captain and liege of the seas, are you? Oh, but you are such a fool, Laufeyson! The sea cannot be truly conquered. All these things will fall away, all your gold and your precious little victories and your ships in time. They can burn, they will burn, and so will you.”

“Shut your fool mouth!” Loki snarls, baring his own teeth, moving to pull cruelly at Thor’s hair, twining his fingers in the slick golden hair. He feels his checked anger spilling over, like a river pushing against the destruction of a dam. 

Thor’s eyes glitter, almost an invitation. “Make me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

He's startled into laughter then, as he leans closer. "You asked," he breathes, and then he's sliding his mouth over Thor's, wicked and wet. Thor's eyes widen comically in shock, and Loki swallows his surprised moan with some satisfaction. He tugs at Thor's hair again, yanking down, pushing against Thor as he plunders his mouth, nipping gently at those bruised lips and pulling away when Thor makes to bite harshly on his tongue. 

Loki dives in again after that, sweeping just so over Thor's bottom lip, his nails a slow drag against the back of Thor's neck. Thor visibly relaxes into his touch there, even if he doesn't want to, keening softly into the kiss that's not quite a kiss.

"You really are something, you know that?" Loki crows in spite of himself, heart thudding as the desire rushes through him like an unstoppable wave. "I want to break you," he says, smirking when Thor just glares at him; the effect of that cold blue gaze is significantly weakened by how Thor is breathing heavily, a tell-tale hardness visible through his tight breeches. He knows desire when he sees it, and even if what he sees in Thor's eyes is mostly reluctance tempered with steel and defiance, there is still desire there. A part of him wants Loki, and Loki's going to milk that any way he can. "I want to defile you, have you at my mercy right over this desk, have you come so hard with my fingers and tongue in you the crew hears you above deck."

"You can try." Thor sneers, but Loki doesn't miss the inkling of something more in his eyes. Thor isn't the slightest bit afraid of him, even if his magic unnerves him. No matter. He'll get Thor to admit how much he wants this, how much he wants Loki, before the night is done.  His words aren't exactly a rejection either, and if it surprises him how that's rather at odds compared to his passionate words of anger he'd directed at Loki just minutes before, he doesn't comment on it.

"You'd like me to try, would you?" He says, voice low, tracing fingertips around the shell of Thor's ear while rocking against him, feeling the burn of his hot skin through their clothes. Thor trembles under him minutely, breathing growing increasingly ragged, and they're so close that he'll be able to kiss him again if he should lean in, just the slightest bit. And he would like to kiss Thor again, Loki notes with some surprise at himself. "I can feel you." Loki trails those fingers down to Thor's collarbone, down to his chest, grazes a nipple and hears Thor's breath hitch. "I can feel how much you'd like me to touch you. I can be gentle," he decides to add smoothly, out of inspiration, pinching Thor's nipple cruelly before shoving his hand down to palm Thor roughly through the cloth. "Or I can be rough, fucking into you until you scream from the pain and pleasure both. I could ride you, take you inside me if you behave like the good captive you're supposed to be. I'll make you feel such ecstasy you'll forget your own name."

Loki is confident he doesn't imagine the way Thor's cock twitches against his touch, hot and straining for release. Oh, yes, Thor wants this, and it's almost hilarious how Thor's glaring downwards at his cock now, as if it's personally betrayed him by responding so eagerly to Loki's ministrations.

"What'll it be, I wonder?" He drawls, snapping his fingers. Thor's breeches vanish in a swirl of smoke, and he ignores Thor's indignant cry in favour of rubbing the edge of his palm against Thor's now-exposed cock, teasing. 

"As if I'd want someone like you to touch me." Thor's voice is strained, but his hips are snapping subtly up to meet Loki's touch. Loki laughs throatily, fully aware of how he's still dressed while Thor is now buck naked and at his mercy; he's relishing every moment of it. "You're a proud and deluded thing, Laufeyson, and your magic is a sin."

"They say the devil plays the best tunes," he replies nonchalantly, brushing the insides of Thor's spread thighs now with the back of his knuckles before kneading lightly at the soft junction where Thor's hip meets his stomach. Loki draws back and smiles at Thor once, devilish, before sinking to his knees. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"What are you doing - oh. Oh." Thor groans with feeling as Loki flicks a tongue out once, curiously, before he places bold and open-mouthed kisses up Thor's cock.

"They also say the devil has a silver tongue," Loki murmurs, delighted at how Thor shudders against him, even through his reluctance, arching up for more. "I don't think they'd ever documented how he could've put such a tongue to good use the way I'm doing right now, though."

"You're still a tyrant grasping for any semblance of control you can get to feel like you're doing something worthwhile." The words are cutting, but Thor's raw in his desire, so utterly vulnerable like this, little stutters of moans that slip when his control wavers at the heat of Loki's touch.

"And you're still beautiful, despite your inability to hold your tongue," he replies easily, tapping his long fingers against Thor's thighs before pushing them apart with intent. Loki leans in, looking up at Thor, taking in the conflicted storm of Thor's expression before he averts his eyes, curling his hand in a tight ring around Thor's cock, sliding his lips over the wetness there and taking him deep into his mouth.

Thor jerks against him, his hands flexing as he thrashes within his bonds, the ropes holding him tight while the chair groans under him. Humming against Thor's skin, Loki doesn't let up; he's done this with way too many lovers, way too many slaves, way too many whores. He knows how to make them fall over the edge with him, knows how to make them whimper and cry at the loss of sensation, knows how to make them want. Loki knows how to make them come so hard they see stars when they fuck into his mouth, moaning like they can't get enough, and he knows how to make them come crawling back with a crook of a finger.

He rather thinks Thor's different, but Loki can try. If the sounds he's pulling from Thor's stubborn and fuckable mouth are any indication, he's making a pretty good attempt.

Loki smiles privately to himself as he swirls his tongue up and around the head, tracing it sharply beneath the slit at the exact moment he slides two fingers down to toy with Thor's balls, kneading them between his fingers and marveling at the soft skin there. He teases, pressing downwards, coaxes Thor's legs apart to nudge gently at his hole.

Thor reacts immediately; the line of his neck is taut when he throws it back, a strangled cry wrested from him, that powerful body rendered helpless and quivering from Loki's ministrations. He chuckles, and the vibrations go straight to Thor's cock, because Loki can feel the way it's jumping against his cheek, eager and hot between his lips.  

 "Easy," Loki sighs when he pulls away, Thor's taste sharp and unfamiliar on the tip of his tongue. He lifts Thor's right leg over his shoulders, leaning in and whispering against his fingers, coating them with conjured oil.    "For all your protestations and prattle, you're taking to this unexpectedly well."

The tilt of Thor's chin is proud, still, and his breaths are loud against Loki's ear when he pushes against Thor, licking the salt off his skin. "As much as I hate to admit it," Thor says roughly, "You can force it on me, take what you want now that you have me bound, but that doesn't mean you can make me want it."

Loki tuts. "I'll make you beg me to fuck you."

"No, you won't," Thor shoots back immediately.

"Oh?" Loki digs his fingers into Thor's thighs as he spreads him, feeling Thor wince, and slides one finger in. He presses down, down to rock his cock against Thor's, awkward with his heels against the floor, the glorious slide of skin almost too much while he crooks his finger this way and that inside Thor, robbing Thor of breath as the man curses, his moans wrecked and wanton. He adds another finger, presses up harshly, and Thor's shutting his eyes tight when he grits out "Fuck," brokenly, shoving back against Loki, is almost Loki's undoing. Loki watches all the while, utterly fascinated. 

"You say that," Loki says, voice low with arousal, "But look at you now, fucking back against my fingers, wanting more of it." His fingers brush against something inside Thor that makes him squirm. Loki nuzzles his way down Thor's stomach, smiling wickedly as Thor shakes against him. "You want everything, anything I can give you, and you don't even know it."

"No," Thor repeats, but it's significantly less sure now when Loki brushes his lips against Thor's cock again,  kissing it lightly, slowly. Reverently, almost. "No, I don't—"

"I don't doubt that you'd really rather be somewhere else," Loki says suddenly, changing tactics, picking up the rhythm as he continues to finger-fuck Thor in tandem with the strokes of his tongue before moving back and carefully pulling his fingers out. He moves Thor's trembling legs further apart, spreading his arse cheeks, and moves in to lick around Thor's hole. Thor had tensed from anticipation, but from the shocked way he cried out and bucked against Loki's mouth, Loki guesses he probably hadn't expected that. Encouraged, Loki begins eating Thor out in earnest, keen on pulling more of those stifled, raw moans from Thor. He makes his own little appreciative noises at the mingled taste of Thor and the clear-scented oil he'd used earlier while Thor shudders beneath him, clenching around his tongue. He presses a soft kiss there, smirking when he sees Thor's toes curl against the floor. 

"But if you submit, Thor, if you say yes, no matter how grudgingly, I will take you to heights you've never explored before. I'll tease you, tease you for hours, but I'll make you come so fucking hard at the end of it when you're on your knees wanting my tongue and my hands and my cock and my magic fucking into you. If you don't, I will still make you beg, as you experience the exquisite agony of yearning for the release I will not grant you." Loki's almost thoughtful when he says that, but he thinks he can feel Thor's resolve breaking a little more with every lap of his tongue against his opening, with every absent brush of his fingers against Thor's cock. "What will it be?"

Thor makes a sound of disbelief, almost sobbing now as he struggles to get more friction against where he wants to be touched most, but Loki holds him firmly in place. "You bastard."

"Not in the strictest sense, no," Loki says politely, glee creeping into his voice because he knows he's this close to victory, almost within his grasp. "But I am a bit of a cruel, vindictive cad." He circles his thumb around Thor's hole again, pushing in just the lightest bit. "I'm not a patient man."

"Fuck," Thor rasps, almost incoherent now. "You can't, just... you can't do this."

"Watch me." Loki looks up at him, as if in challenge. "Do you submit?"

"Laufeyson—" Almost a plea; he's getting there.

"Do you submit?" Loki says again, all cold and menacing tones ringing with finality. It's even louder in the silence because of it.

Thor closes his eyes, as if pained.

"I submit."

Loki smirks, green eyes alight. "Good. You're a quicker learner than I thought." He lets magic creep to his fingertips, enjoying the way Thor gasps at his touch, rocking into it like he can't stay away. 

"Let us begin."


End file.
